


the perfect amalgamation

by sarcasticSerenade



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Doomed Timelines, Drabble, F/M, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 21:31:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasticSerenade/pseuds/sarcasticSerenade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The smell is distinctive and perfectly recognisable - something that she will remember until the day of her death. It embodies everything that she holds dear to herself, both in ways that she stoutly refuses to admit publicly, and in ways that are so essential to her very being that it was impossible to be unacquainted with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the perfect amalgamation

**Author's Note:**

> I asked for fic prompts on my tumblr (inadequatethinkpan.tumblr.com), and my lovely friend Karae asked if I could write her a quick Karezi Sadstuck fic.

She seeks comfort in the colours, watching as the greens subtly shifted shades, melding into each other to produce topology that seemed almost three-dimensional in her minds eye. Perfect hills are cut in half with a shimmering, sparkling blue that tasted like nothing she had ever come across – it seems fresh, crisp, completely foreign, unlike anything in Alternia. Querying, unseeing eyes survey the landscape, taking in the stale-scented buildings on the horizon, and a smile ghosts her face. While her vision is gone, the concept of beauty is not lost on her.

Like a bird about to take flight, the seer moves her weight to the balls of her feet, but she miscalculates badly, failing to acknowledge the slanting ground beneath her soles. Head over foot she tumbles, descending into a waterlogged valley, colours flashing through her mind faster than she can comprehend. The musty brown of the dirt beneath the forest green of the grass becomes slowly more prominent, and then, all of a sudden, a waft of candy red hits her.

Seconds later, she finds the source of the scent.

The grin never leaves her face. The sensation of falling is hardly a new one, and somehow the lack of control is comforting. It seemed that much about this planet, which she recognised to be her own, is soothing, each aspect is one to aid her in growth. And the one that she has rolled into, by pure luck, is perhaps the most comforting of them all.

The smell is distinctive and perfectly recognisable - something that she will remember until the day of her death. It embodies everything that she holds dear to herself, both in ways that she stoutly refuses to admit publicly, and in ways that are so essential to her very being that it was impossible to be unacquainted with them.

The colour is better in real life, she decides, than over a computer or in a picture, and her experience is entirely new, almost completely unrecognisable to her original perceptions of the shade. Mingled with the scents of the grass and dirt, the red develops a more natural tinge, something that seems to hang in the air in such an imitable, unparalleled way. The harsh sweetness of the text colour is gone, replaced with a factor that was a living, breathing, real live being, and that alone was a scent so perfect that it completely overwhelmed the girl’s brain. Her grin softens into something sweeter, something so full of the strongest emotions she understood how to feel as she leans over the source of the smell.

And suddenly, there was too much. Too much, in all the wrong places.

The cool grey of her friend’s skin is inconsistent, and she leans over him, making sure her initial prognosis is correct. Careful fingers flutter over his body, digits quickly coating themselves in the shade that she once yearned to taste for the rest of eternity. She wishes that she could bring herself to taste it for real, to let the colour hit her tongue, but the certainty of such an action would be terrifying. If he were dead, then she did not care for her own existence.

Stepping over her fallen friend, the seer begins her trek back up the hill. The game must go on, it seems, but to her it has little worth, now that her closest ally is no longer a player. If the game’s sole purpose is to destroy what might have been, then it’s a pretty terrible sort of game, she thinks, as tears cloud her useless eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I've ever written a piece of fanfiction before, so sorry if this was completely inadequate!


End file.
